


So Put Your Hands Down My Pants

by dizzy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Time, M/M, PWP, fooling around with someone else in the room, handjobs, kinda frottage, little bit of feelings that just snuck in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 20:08:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1791628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Far be it from Stiles to let an unwanted third party get in the way of having his fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Put Your Hands Down My Pants

There are some kinds of excitement that Stiles can live without - the life threatening kind, the run for your life kind, the people he loves in mortal peril kind. There are some kinds he's coming around to, like the excitement of playing a will-we-won't-we game with a supernatural creature that could bench press his weight without breaking a sweat. Really, in the grand scheme of nature and the chain of life he's pretty sure that Derek has every right to view Stiles like a bug he can squish. But he only place Derek looks like he wants to squish Stiles right now is between his body and a wall. Which... could still be painful but Stiles is pretty sure Derek has top notch control in that department. He's slept with humans before and not killed them dead, so that's a good sign. 

Right now Stiles is so horny that he'll take the risk. He's horny because he's sitting on a couch beside Derek and he can feel the heat of Derek's thigh against his and the rock solid muscle of Derek's bicep every time one of them shifts. He's horny because he and Derek have been playing this sly little flirtation game for a couple of months now, growing closer in a lot of ways, and tonight Derek invited him over and Stiles has basically no questions as to what was supposed to happen. They've given each other multiple opportunities to confirm, they've taken their time and let it build, and now all that sexual tension is gonna explode like that one dude in Scary Movie. 

At least it was supposed to. It was supposed to and then Scott invited himself along when he heard Stiles was going to Derek's to _watch some movies_ and Stiles is a dumbass but he'd been lost in such a Derek-sex-haze that he hadn't even been able to think of a quick excuse. At least Scott draped himself across the arm chair, which leaves him not even looking in the direction of Stiles and Derek unless he actually turns his head to look back at them. 

There's a blanket over Stiles' lap, because it's winter and he can get away with that. The werewolves have such a weird concept of what even effects humans that the only people who would call him out on it not being that cold are the girls, who are off doing... whatever, Stiles doesn't know. Doesn't really care, either. He's got his blanket and he's got the dude he wants to climb like a tree and he's also got some balls of steels because in about two seconds he's going to put his hand on Derek Hale's thigh and hopefully live to tell the tail. 

... and, yep. There he goes. 

He's definitely still alive. Still breathing. Still horny. 

Even hornier, actually, because now he can feel the heat radiating from Derek's skin though his jeans and the flex that makes Derek's thigh jump under his touch sporadically. Derek is still giving every sign of paying attention to the movie but Stiles can't even remember the name of it. 

He lasts another five minutes like that and then Derek moves. 

He moves his hand under the blanket, over Stiles. 

And he just kind of... guides Stiles' hand... 

It takes everything in Stiles not to whine out loud when he feels the hotter, harder bulge of Derek's dick under where Derek just redirected Stiles touch. Stiles' heart is pounding and he's counting on the fact that it's a scary movie and no one will think it's weird. 

(As far as the whole smelling the horny thing - Scott has already confirmed that basically all teenage boys always smell like that.) 

Derek's hand moves away and Stiles doesn't move. He's afraid Derek will spook and realize what he's done and that'll be the end of it, but apparently Derek knows exactly what he's doing. He lets out this rumbling little noise that Stiles feels more than hears and Stiles hand jerks in surprise. There's a minute push up of Derek's hips against his hand to encourage it. 

And... oh. Shit. Yeah. _Yeah_. 

Stiles starts to do a little exploring. He's gonna fucking conquer this. He'll be the king of Mt. Derek's Cock, he'll plant a goddamn flag in it. He maps out the length and direction that it's going in with firm pushes that make Derek do that fun grumbly-almost-purr thing again. He finds the tip and presses harder, squeezes a fist around it as much as he can through the jeans Derek's wearing. 

Oh, god. He's touching Derek Hale's cock. He's basically jerking him off through his pants. Shit. _Shit_. 

He wonders how much Derek will let him get away with. He reaches up and thumbs open the button on Derek's jeans. He's not sure at what point werewolves can scent out actual sex as different from just arousal, but he figures Derek will tell him when to stop. 

He waits until the topless chick onscreen shrieks and then tugs Derek's zipper down. 

Fuckshitballs, he's commando. There's nothing but rough slightly sweaty pubic hair and flesh under Stiles' fingers. It's so hot Stiles feels like he's about to suffer heatstroke. 

He gets his fingers in at an awkward angle but luckily Derek didn't go for the nutcrusher pants today so he can actually make it work. Derek's cock is plump and warm when Stiles gets his hand around it and Derek's breathing is almost the same as it was before but just that tiny bit off, like he's trying to keep it even now. Stiles starts to stroke a little but he can't get any good rhythm going so mostly he just squeezes off on and on and memorizes it with his touch. He plays with the foreskin, rubs circles around the tip, smears the precome around, traces the veins and even manages to wiggle his fingers down against Derek's balls, the weird soft-wrinkled skin tightening around the actual balls the longer Stiles keeps groping them. It gets his palm flat against Derek's dick and he starts to rub like that, too. 

He wants so badly to be able to lean in and whisper to Derek all the many ways he wants that dick all in and about his person, but he knows they'd be overheard. 

"So what next?" Scott says, his voice an awful interruption. "Are you - cuddling?" 

Stiles freezes. He's turned into Derek's body, head on Derek's shoulder, and if that's getting him some weird looks then Scott definitely doesn't know where Derek's hand is. "I'm cold, asshole. Sourwolf is like a furnace over here." 

Lovely, trusting Scott. He shrugs like he still thinks it's weird but he doesn't push it. 

"No more movies," Derek snaps. "You can go." 

Scott pouts. "But I brought-" 

"No." Derek's gaze shuts Scott up in two seconds flat. The intensity of the Do Not Fuck With Me element in his look is impressive consider Stiles is still rubbing his boner while he does it. Seriously, threatening must be something he can actually do in his sleep. 

Scott sighs. "Fine." He gets up and glances over at Stiles. Stiles realizes a moment too late that there's absolutely no reason why he wouldn't be going with Scott. In a hopeful voice he asks. "Curly fries?" 

Derek to the rescue. "No," he snaps. "He's helping me. With a translation." 

"Homework? On the weekend?" Scott sounds sincerely and almost endearingly bummed. Stiles has never loved his oblivious, trusting nature more than he does right now. He's also never wanted Scott to leave more than he does right now.

"I'll call you tomorrow," Stiles says. He really should take his hand out of Derek's pants.

He doesn't. Living on the edge, man. 

The second Scott is gone, a few things happen in quick succession. 

One: Derek throws the blanket off of them. 

Two: Stiles almost chokes on his own spit at the sight of Derek's shiny-pink cock poking up from his jeans, wrapped in Stiles down hand. It's gorgeous and he definitely hopes to give it a full visual exploration later. And then an oral one. And then whatever you call exploring someone's dick with the inside of your ass, yeah, he's gonna do that, too. He'll cover all the bases.

Three: They kiss. 

Really, Derek kisses Stiles, but it only stays that way for about three seconds before Stiles is completely in the game. It's all mashing lips and messy tongue and Derek pinning Stiles into the couch while Stiles yelps something like _fuck don't break my wrist_ and he gets his hand out but he gets Derek's dick out too and then he's exactly where he wants to be, jerking Derek off like it's totally something he's done before while Derek mauls his neck in delicious and erotically painful ways. 

Derek grunts and fucks Stiles' fist and growls and it's all very intimate and raw and Stiles is definitely going to cream his pants. "Drive me fucking crazy," Derek says, stubble scrubbing across the pale skin of Stiles' neck while his hips still pump. 

"Yeah," Stiles says, encouraging him breathlessly. He fists a hand in the short hair at the back of Derek's neck and bucks his own hips up uselessly. "Do it, come on." 

He feels the scrape of teeth over his neck but there's no bite, like Derek's using some hella good restraint. Stiles immediately makes it his mission to figure out how to make him loosen that hold - but not now, later. Later, when they're in a bed, when Stiles has gotten at least one good nut in and can enjoy it without feeling like he's losing his mind. Right now he wants it just like this - fast and dirty and reckless. 

He gets what he wants. Derek throws his head back and gives Stiles a view of his neck, blood-flushed and dotted with stubble, adam's apple standing out in sharp contrast, as he comes. Stiles wanted to be able to look at Derek's dick while he blew, but this is almost as good. He can feel it still, anyway - slick and hot, spitting between their bodies. Stiles' t-shirt will be ruined and he doesn't fucking care. Maybe he'll keep it, frame it and put it on his wall. Little plaque under it: cum splatter pattern compliments of Derek Hale. 

His hand is smeared and fragrant still when he jams it between their bodies, shoving uselessly at Derek. "Move, move, I wanna-" 

Derek doesn't let him. He growls and knocks Stiles' hand out of the way and then mouths down Stiles body, shoving the t-shirt up to bite at the pale flesh of his tummy, them jamming his face right down there all nice and cozy with Stiles' cock. 

Stiles has been too hard for too long. All it takes is Derek getting his mouth around the head of Stiles' dick, the blunt pressure of teeth through two layers of cloth, and Stiles is losing it. His whole body does a spazzy jerk and his own come coats the head of his dick with nowhere else to go in his briefs. Derek growls at that, too, and sucks hard like he's trying to swallow it all down even through the cloth... and fuck, maybe he even manages some, but Stiles is too lost in the bliss of his evaporating virginity to pay much attention to what level of ruined his pants are. 

He sinks down onto the couch, breathing heavy. He flings his non-jizzed on hand over his eyes and laughs. "Oh, god." 

"Mm." Derek grumbles something like agreement and then settles heavily half on Stiles. "You have five minutes." 

Stiles stomach drops. This was not in the plan. Stiles had a plan, and this was nowhere on it. Has he misread everything? Did Derek just a quick fuck and - nothing? Stiles hadn't expected roses and candy, but he had at least though they were... something. "What? Are you kicking me out?" 

"No." Derek packs a lot of annoyance in two letters, but then he kisses Stiles like it means something else. "Five minutes to rest. Then I'm dragging you to the bedroom." 

Aw, _yeah_.


End file.
